Friday, April 1, 2011


Another night as the clock ticks, I lie awake.  My muse is not a muse anymore it is much more, she taps her feet in urgency. “It’s time” she says, I am nervous but I trust and beyond all rational thought I am here the vessel, the vehicle, the pen, that is meant to allow that creative force to manifest with a message (at times you have to be just a little crazy to believe in the forces beyond).  The message that we are not alone, that on some subtle plane, in some subtle way, through some subtle thread our hearts and minds are strung together…what this string is and why I do not know..

When you open up your heart to a total “stranger” (in truth there are no strangers) do you see the connection? That somehow despite our differences in external circumstance,  that our experience or interpretation of this tide of experience is the same.  Somehow while our views, our lense of the world may be different, we are going through the same currents, the same waves, we are in the same ocean, experiencing the same storms, the same tempests.  They appear different because of our lense…

The waves rise high above
They crash and splash above high rock
The rock remains untouched
The wave slithers off the rock back into the vast
Again the wave rises up
Again the rock remains untouched
Again the wave slides back

Until one day the effects of the wave are seen
The rock is now smooth where the wave had touched
A subtle touch that spanned eons
      And manifested change

Change is that spark, that spiraling effect, it is a beginning…

There is this idea of gross to subtle that was introduced during my yoga training.  Everything that exists in gross matter has some subtle existence as well, and while an ax can spilt wood physically, even before the ax hits the wood in gross form it has already split on a subtle level.  Tai chi tactics fall under this philosophy, the idea of splitting wood occurs on an energetic subtle plane before it actually splits gross matter.  This is an additional lense added on to my personal kaleidoscope lens of my world view.  Often we are so consumed with the literal, that is exactly in front of us because it is so much more tangible, easier, safe to believe in this literality of life. No risks…but I think it is in the subtle that the truth lies, I know it inherently, and this knowingness is beyond words. I have yet to experience its essence, because I don’t know what the truth is…

I find that language, even as a writer is a vice.  It can be limiting. There are things truly lost in translation, perhaps that is why we create art in the form of dance, word, and play…sculpture and paint.  We try to express that which is beyond words, and there is so much beyond language.  Experience is BEYOND language.  Language is just one simple tool, but it cannot truly convey what is in our hearts, the depth, the magnitude, the trouble the gratitude…the life, the force the passion…even the word passion does not feel enough to me.

Sometimes I do not want to speak, I do not want to write, but then I am left with nothing, no means of expression…

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